Page 43 of Olivia's Only Pretending
He gave my wrist a squeeze before removing his hand.
I scooped up the fork, and his eyes followed it to my lips. My stomach dipped.
“Well, I’m finishing up the plans, and then they’ll be in your inbox. That way, you can force me to actually take the steps.” He leaned his head against the tree.
“I’m good at the whole pushing people thing. I’m a Rhodes woman, after all.” I set the fork back down on the plate. “And hey, I better remain your priority customer, even after you get popular.”
“Well, I don’t know how good you’ll be for my business. Most of the stuff I do for you, I’ve done for free or discounted just cause you’re really cute.”
I fought back a grin. “Victor.” I gave him a playful shove. “I try to pay you, and you refuse! I don’t want to hurt your business.”
Victor would’ve been worth every penny, because Victor’s workwasreally good. But there were other factors in why I kept wanting more and more Victor creations. More than I could ever afford.
Partially, it was because I just wanted more and moreVictor.
I wanted him in my kitchen or my backyard when I got home from work.
I wanted to look at my kitchen table and think of him, his hands, and his heart.
I loved that when I walked across my back porch in the mornings barefoot, I saw the wood he picked out and sanded down. I could still hear the old rock he blared as he worked, singing along, and feel his hands on mine as he taught me proper sanding technique while we built it.
Everything he built me carried that instant peace I felt in his presence, like he was my own personal remedy.
It was the Victor in all of it that I loved.
“Want the last bite?” Victor asked, waking me from my thoughts.
I reached for the fork, and he snatched it away, holding it up over us out of reach.
“Not so fast, Freckles!”
“Hey.” I twisted around him to grab the fork. We started wrestling over the fork, breathless and laughing. His warm body was against mine again, still sending my heart racing, when the plate fell off his lap.
Our last bite was in the grass.
“You have some kind of pie curse,” Victor said from our place, all twisted up, both with a grip on the fork.
“That time was definitely your fault,” I argued.
I let go of the fork, opting instead to rest my head on his shoulder. The sun was completely set, and the lamp posts around campus flickered on.
I had papers to grade, syllabi to work on, a lecture to write, and dishes in my sink, but I just kept trying for more time here with Victor.
Fourteen
Victor
*sends close-up photo of Watson; mostly just his nose and left eye are shown*
I got up to grab something from the kitchen and left a bowl of fruity pebbles on the coffee table and this dog ate my last few bites
which isn’t the exact same as knocking it to the ground (…like you did), but I still had the last bite of my dessert ruined again
Me
Fruity pebbles are a dessert to you?
Victor
